Imagining Sleeping With The Enemy

There’s something about those tall blonde guys with squinty eyes. They’re trying to understand something or perhaps pretend that they are trying to understand something. Regardless, they are always thinking.

These are not small men, either. They are rowers and squash players, men over six feet tall whose athleticism isn’t a burden but a mark of their stock. Their large, thin frames are natural and found in certain streets of New York City and Washington, D.C. These men are definitely in Providence and Princeton, casually passing as another handsome man.

I’ve met many of these men before. Some were friends but most literally looked down on me as a some sort of gay jester, a little character on the very, very outskirts of their polished world. I never necessarily wanted to penetrate their world (I tried, had some success, but could not literally keep up with those Joneses.) but found myself content watching. I’d even imagine being in their arms or touching their giant man hands. My hands are far from manly. Not because I am not a man (That is still questionable.) but because they are admittedly dainty. There is wear—but they are not commanding.

The hands of these men have a command. They were—and some still are—used to tightly grip oars and rackets and clubs. You can very easily see them around sporting equipment as you would see them around a golden ink pen signing papers, checks. You can see them gripping the neck of a lover, in passion privately or at a cocktail party as an expression of possession.

Tommy Gilbert Jr. is very obviously one of these men which makes him quadruply more attractive than fellow “hot” felon Jeremy Meeks. Perusing his archive, you learn who this man is. He’s the same breed as Armie Hammer and the Winklevoss Twins and Prince Harry: these are esteemed, extremely wealthy white men who can incredibly, thanks to capital, do whatever they want.

Does this include murder? Because of a missed allowance? Perhaps. As Gilbert’s forthcoming mugshot and court appearances will prove, he will be cast in the very fortunate position of high end criminal. His body will be sexualized by the public and he’ll be seen as a dangerous, attractive man in the same light as Meeks. With Gilbert, it’s doubly dangerous because he is both handsome (and white) in addition to being rich, a position that can lead to the assumption of being beyond reproach. He is a tabloid gold mine.

Gilbert will most definitely “pay for his crimes” but will now and then live on as a deluxe delinquent, a rare breed of person that you can project yourself onto because he has fallen from grace. You can imagine yourself sleeping with this enemy because his character is imperfect but lineage and looks are not. It’s a classic American true crime trope that he almost seems predestined to fall into.

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